


Eulogy for Time

by Celirian



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Gen, The Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye (IDW), lost light AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-16 23:26:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5845054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celirian/pseuds/Celirian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of chaos Ratchet gave three requests to Rodimus if anything should happen to him: 1. Tell First Aid he was ready 2. Tell Whirl he could have his hands and 3. Tell all his patients they would have to reschedule. Now, First Aid is ready, patients are rescheduled, and Whirl isn't sporting claws anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Eulogy for Time

A Eulogy for Time

Disclaimer: I don't know Transformers or any of the characters in this work. They are all righted to the team and creators of IDW comics.

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Hello! A big thanks for anyone taking the time to read this. In order to get a good understanding of where this story stems from you'll have to take a little side trip to Tumblr. Mainly to **[Sweetcrescent's](http://sweetcrescent.tumblr.com/)** page to look at **[this wonderful piece](http://sweetcrescent.tumblr.com/post/123911733486/headcanon-au-where-whirl-really-get-ratchets)**. It struck me and stuck in my head until I had to write. I had to write about the 'what if' and this is it.

* * *

 

Chapter 1- A Eulogy for Time

“He always had this theory, that us medics were built different from everyone else. And no, I’m not talking about our hands. He thought we were built tougher even though we don’t look it. We have to be able to take the punches and still be on our feet to help those who took the harder punches.” First Aid paused and looked around the room. There had never been such a complete stillness aboard the Lost Light. Not a servo twitched, not an optic flickered. Even the little flames sitting just above the coffin just below him holding his friend and teacher, seemed to still in the silence.

“And… and he was right for the most part. He was right and he was wrong because he was stronger. He was so much stronger until he wasn’t strong enough and not a single person here can say when exactly that happened. I can tell you this; all of us here- we all have a debt that can never be repaid. Not that Ratchet would accept it. He never wanted thanks. He just did what he did, even if he grumbled about it the whole time. All I can say is just… just don’t waste what he gave us.”

“No!”

It wasn’t the shout that made everyone in the room jump. It was the resounding crunching of metal that echoed up the walls and around the ceiling to chamber from a tight fist finding its way into the door at the back of the room. Whirl pulled his hand, _his hand_ , out from the buckled door and stalked up the aisle between the rows of chairs. Only optics moved as everyone followed his trek up to the podium where he stood in front of First Aid. No one tried to stop him.

First Aid didn’t budge from where he stood. He had been expecting an outburst from Whirl, but not here. Not _now_ . He’d been expecting it _earlier_. Way earlier, back when the medical bay floor was still slick with spilled energon and everyone was reeling from their encounter with Overlord.

Before the funeral, but after First Aid had found Ratchet on the floor of the medical bay after spending nearly twelve metacycles trying to save Ultra Magnus’ life. After Rodimus destroyed his hab suit when he recieved the news, because if the inevitable loss of Ultra Magnus was enough to wreck his office then this was the tipping point. First Aid expected Whirl’s outburst after Drift had taken up a vigil next to Ratchet’s body still legless after the attack. After Rodimus finally sat down and told First Aid the last words he’d heard from Ratchet before the attack and gave him his new title as Chief Medical Officer. After the worlds shortest debate took place and First Aid prepped a stasis locked Whirl for surgery.

It was like providence, if that was something you could believe in. Ratchet died, Whirl’s claws were ripped apart by Overlord and if Ratchet was still around Whirl would be back to new in no time, but he wasn’t and First Aid just wasn’t _that_ good. Not yet.  It was as if Ratchet knew he wouldn’t be there to fix him entirely, so he left what he could.

So First Aid was expecting the outburst. He was expecting the cursing and yelling and punching, but he had been expecting it earlier. After Whirl had woken up with Ratchet’s hands.

But Whirl had been silent, then.

“You can’t say that! It’s not _fair_. This-“ Whirl held up his arms, flashing red fingers only a couple inches from First Aid’s face. “isn’t fair. You can’t stick these things on me and then tell me not to waste them.”

“Whirl.” Rodimus took a step forward from behind First Aid where he was listening to the medic and trying to think of anything to say that could even remotely do Ratchet any justice. He put a hand out as if to push Whirl back, but a tug on the ceremonial duster hanging off his shoulders held him back. He glanced over at Drift and his friend shook his head.

His movement had already gotten Whirl’s attention.  “What?! I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t ask to wake up with… with a legacy attached to my arms! I mean, how could you even think I’d be able to not waste them. Do you even know me? I’m a _killer_! How could you give me hands that have done nothing but the opposite?!” Whirl’s entire frame shook; he didn’t even know if it was anger or grief at this point. Probably anger because that’s what he always felt. “When did it happen?”

“I don’t know.” First Aid said simply, calmly, but in a firm tone that stopped the question dead. He shuffled a little in place and then stilled. “No one does. It just happened and don’t start thinking you’re the only one angry not knowing the whys and hows. We were too busy and things were too hectic. He saved a handful of lives and we lost his because we were too ignorant to notice something wrong; to ignorant even ask. We just assumed he was fine because he’d always been fine in the past.”

“That is so _stupid_ .’ Whirl shook his head and back away from the platform a little more. “This is so stupid! Do you know what I did with these…with _his_ hands when you released me? Do you know how much I’ve already wasted them?” Reaching down Whirl fumbled with a small box that was hooked to his hip. His fingers struggled with the clasps holding it on because he still wasn’t used to _having fingers_.  Once the little black square was free he tossed it at First Aid.

The medic stepped back as he caught the box inches from his face and stared at it a moment before lifting the lid off and turning it towards the light to see inside. Optics widened and First Aid glanced up disbelievingly at Whirl. “You…?”

Unable to keep his curiosity in check Rodimus inched his way up behind First Aid and glanced over his shoulder. Impressed he raised an eyebrow at Whirl. “Are you saying you _made_ that?”

“Well I didn’t _steal_ it.” Whirl squinted at the captain with his one eye unsure of whether Rodimus was channeling any of his signature sarcasm or not.  This wasn’t the place for sarcasm, but the captain was famous for doing things that weren’t kosher in the moment.

First Aid reached into the box and began pulling a small silver chain into the air. Once it was completely free a palm sized silver circle sat attached to the bottom of the chain. It spun around a couple times, unwinding itself and catching the light from the flame sitting idly above Ratchet’s casket bouncing yellow and orange around the room like soundless fireworks.

The room was still silent. Silent expect for a very faint ticking.

“A watch.” Drift stepped out of the shadows where he’d been watching the entire affair and looked at Whirl with a small lilt in his mouth that was as close to a smile as he could get at that moment. “What do you mean wasted? Ratchet would be really glad to see this.”

Whirl looked as close to unconvinced as was possible for a bot with no face.

“You managed to take a whole bunch of little pieces and bring them to life.” Drift walked up to First Aid and knelt down to admire the trinket. He held it in place, rubbing a finger over the glass surface above the moving hands. “You created something from nothing and I think that’s something Ratchet would appreciate.”

“It’s a dumb little trinket that tells the time. I wasted an entire day making a useless device in this day of digitalism and it’s not even going to last that long.” Whirl dropped his arms to his sides, the fight finally draining from him. “It’s not anything like he did.”

“Hmm…” First Aid handed the watch off to Drift and jumped off the small platform and looked up at Whirl. “Really, it’s not so different. What goes into making a watch? Some levers, pulleys, gears, wires, and something in the middle of it all that makes it tick.” He rapped a finger on Whirl’s chest plate just above his spark.

Whirl let out a sharp short laugh. “Ha! You can’t tell me it’s that simple. There is no way life is that simple.”

“I can.” First Aid said firmly. He glanced over at Ambulon who nodded his agreement. “When you get down to it, we are very much like your watch. We might be bigger, but we break and need repairs and we also all have our time limits. Drift is right; Ratchet would be very glad to see this.”

Whirl still didn’t understand entirely, but it made sense. Sort of. Staring down at his hands he gripped his palms under his fingers in fists so tight his arms began to tremble in protest. It was weird; being able to hold things, feel things. Not just have clamps attached to his wrists. Building the watch was amazing. He’d forgotten how much he liked working with his hands. Being busy and seeing things build up instead of come apart; building, creating, watching the gears click together and hearing the first tick of the hands.

Maybe… maybe he shouldn’t paint his hands to match the rest of him. Maybe the rest of him should match Ratchet’s hands.


	2. To the Moon

“So why me? Whirl squinted his one eye at Rodimus in every attempt to look suspicious. “You’re team has all the pieces already, doesn’t it? You’ve got First Aid the doctor, Perceptor the scientist, you the leader, Chromedome the sympathy case, Rung for… moral support I guess? And the purple walking encyclopedia of historical crap.”

“I need someone who can throw a punch.” Rodimus sounded as guilty as he looked. “I know…I know you’ve been trying to turn things around and Ratchet would probably toss a wrench at my head if he knew I was asking you to do this, but I can’t really trust anyone else to be able to do what you do best.”

“Kill?”

“Fight back swiftly and quickly. I mean, in the end you probably won’t need to do anything. We’re traveling down to a moon that went missing millions of years ago.”

"We tracked Magnus’ body here, so there’s _something_ down there. Clearly you’re expecting a fight.”

“Yeah, I am.” Rodimus crossed his arms and dropped his casuistical tone. “If you don’t want to, just say so, but I have a feeling we’re going to really need you down there.”

Whirl looked away from the captain. _Aka you’re going to need someone to pull the trigger when the time comes_ . Really Rodimus wasn’t wrong in asking; there wasn’t anyone better at doing that on the Lost Light than Whirl. He was once a Wrecker for a reason. The functionalists did what they did to him for a reason. They made him what he was _for a reason_.  He’d just never had a reason to fight against his very core instinct before now. Well the core instinct that was left in him after the Emperata.

He’d barely made the decision to try and learn anything about not being a killer. First Aid had approached him about it after the Act of Transition, told him that he’d be willing to teach Whirl medicine if he really wanted to find a way to keep Ratchet’s ‘legacy’ alive.  The new Chief Medical Officer said that the watch was proof enough for him that Whirl’s old personality was still alive somewhere. Perhaps it was just buried under all those years of Empurata induced anger.

That was yesterday, though, and Whirl hadn’t really made an exact decision yet. He didn’t even think it was _possible_ for him to turn around like that. Despite a strange calm he found when he was building the watch, all his other less than savory traits were still screaming around his mind. The anger, the itch in his arms to punch something, the discombobulated thoughts that never made sense to him and made even less sense when his words jumped out of his mouth. It was all the same as it always had been; since the functionalists indefinitely and completely scrambled his coding.

Whirl could try to use this as a test. Maybe if they run into a big bad and he doesn’t give in to the urge of ripping out his spark then he’ll know whether he’s capable to accepting First Aid’s offer or not.  The likelihood of that was so slim. All he wanted to do was rip something’s spark out; he was still so mad. The last time he had been this mad was when Fortress Maximus was threatening Rung.

Maybe he just needed to get it out of his system. But he _couldn’t_. Not with these hands. He’d feel too guilty and Whirl didn’t know if he was clever enough to try and think of something alternative to his usual methods on the fly.

“What the hell, why not?” _Argh!_ Whirl always did let his mouth speak way before his thoughts were even remotely put together.

Rodimus pumped a fist in the air. “Excellent. We leave now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks for those who left kudos and once again thanks for taking the time to read!
> 
> I know this chapter was super short, but back when I wrote it I wasn't expecting this to turn into an actual multi-chapter thing. More of a series of shorts- more in the next chapters, promise. See you then!


	3. Hot Topic

The barren landscape he’d been expecting. The giant hot spot that ignited when Rodimus stepped off his M.A.R.B not so much. No one was expecting that to happen. Who would even considering conceptualizing it? Hot spots hadn’t been a thing in  _ millions _ of years. Being forged was such a foreign concept that Whirl had a hard time remembering what it was like to be born under the stars.

That, however, had happened  _ hours _ ago.  Still Whirl’s thoughts kept drifting back to it. To the moment when the black ground under his feet had turned into a sea of energy and life. He could feel the heat from the glowing sparks on his face and there was a smell in the air that fired a memory circuit of familiarity, but he couldn’t quite place what he was trying to remember. It was all so nostalgic and wonderful and, if Cybertronians breathed, it would have been breathtaking.

First Aid had been three steps away from throwing a party he was so excited and Cyclonus, well; he’d gotten  _ really _ quiet.  Not that he was much of a conversationalist in the first place. Whirl still hated him for all the right (or wrong, it just depended on your point of view) reasons, but he was getting better at tolerating his presence and abilities. Which was good because since the two of them were separated from the rest of the group after the completely unforeseen Decepticon attack, he didn’t have much of a choice but to tolerate.

An attack he fought back in. An attack he had instigated the retaliation on. He’d been right back on the Lost Light: he really couldn’t fight against himself. Before he knew it he was telling Cyclonus that Rodimus’ order to not engage was actually just a roundabout way of saying ‘sure fight back’.

It was just so hard  _ not  _ too. Who wouldn’t want to punch some Decepticons in the face? Who wouldn’t want to punch Lockdown of all Decepticons in face? Multiple times, at that. Of course Lockdown had gone right after Rodimus and the others, but there were still a good handful of non-flying con’s that fell hilariously when knocked off their M.A.R.B units. He’d never been known for his self control. In fact he was infamous for his lack of it. So they did attack. And the Decepticons began dropping. He and Cyclonus won, of course, but for the first time in a  _ long _ time Whirl hated being on the winning side.

“So,” Whirl couldn’t take the silence anymore. Neither of them had said a word since they’d departed the aerial battle. They touched down at what looked like the front doors...something... that was sitting over what had to be the largest smelting pool this side of the galaxy. “How many do you think you killed back there?” Pausing Whirl shook his head. “Wait, why the hell would I ask that? I’m off to a real good start. Ignore that.”

Cyclonus crossed his arms and raised a single eyebrow. He almost looked amused. “Start to what?”

“Nothing. Forget it. I said to forget it, right? I didn’t say anything.”

“I wasn’t keeping track either way.” Cyclonus said dismissing the question with a wave of a hand. He still kept his optics narrowed on Whirl. “We might want to try to find the others.”

“Yeah, but this is pretty awesome, don’t you think?” Whirl waved a hand at the giant burning pool in front of them. “Not that I keep a spreadsheet of these sorts of things, but this is the biggest smelting pool I have ever seen.”

Cyclonus kept looking suspicious.

“What? This has to be here for a reason, right? Big abandoned facility, giant pool of death, that doesn’t scream ‘investigate me!’ to you?”

When he got no response, Whirl shrugged and turned away from Cyclonus. The truth was that Whirl didn’t want to go find the others. Not yet. If Lockdown and his lackeys had found Rodimus and the rest of the team, then there would be a battle and Whirl was still shaking from the last one. He tried to reason with himself that in that sort of situation he didn’t have a choice. It was kill or be killed and surely Ratchet had been in situations like that before. Surely the doctor had been put into some scenario where he just didn’t have a choice.

He could also practically hear Ratchet’s voice in his head saying that there was always a choice. The medic had always been the one to throw his empty hands up and try to talk his way through something. It’s not that Ratchet was a pacifist (and Whirl probably couldn’t say that word out loud without laughing), but he usually at tried to not shoot someone first. Unless he had too. Word was he shot Overlord in the face. 

This was sort of like that, right? It was himself and Cyclonus versus like, twenty of them; they definitely would have been in a pinch if they’d just fled. The others would have chased them and it would have either been the galaxy’s longest game of hide and go shriek. It also would have ended in a fight either way. The Decepticons weren’t just going to get bored and Lockdown probably wouldn’t have let them return to wherever their base was without taking him and Cyclonus out. 

They didn’t have a choice. He didn’t have a choice. The thing that bothered Whirl the most was that while he hated the fact that he  _ had _ to attack them (no choice, remember) he only hated it  _ after _ the fact. While he was in the heat of the fight? No he still loved. He still wanted it. That was the worst part. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Cyclonus broke through Whirl’s thoughts as he walked by towards two large doors that lead into the giant facility. “You didn’t k-“

Whirl interrupted before Cyclonus could say anything else. He didn’t want to hear any of the older bot’s ‘ancient wisdom’ bull crap. “I did what needed to be done. That’s why Rodimus brought me here. He brought me here because I’m good at one thing and I’m not good at anything else.” Hand or claws it didn’t change who he was at the core level. Maybe he was crazier than he thought; thinking he might be able to change.

“I beg to differ.”

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”

“I was at the Send Off.”

“ _ Shut _ .  _ Up! _ ”

“Fine, but it was an impressive piece.”


	4. Doctor. Doctor.

A little different this chapter, no Whirl, but this is where I realize this is going to be much more than a small ficlet. Oops, but not really sorry. Thanks for everyone who left Kudos on the previous chapters. I'm glad people are enjoying this story!

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First Aid felt a tap on his head. Then he heard a knock in his audio receptors. Then he felt a punch to the side of his face and he was pretty sure he cursed out loud, but maybe it wasn’t him?

“Come on. I don’t have _time_ for you to be unconscious anymore.”

As his optics flickered on and focused in, First Aid almost cursed, (again?). Instead he pulled his head away from Pharma who was mere inches away from him, staring impatiently with a grin on his face. “You’ve grown exponentially creepier since Delphi.”

“Aw, don’t be like that.” Pharma stood up and crossed his arms. “And here I thought we were going to have a chance to catch up.”

“Catch up?” First Aid looked around and followed the chains running from his arms to his feet to the buckles holding him to a vertical surgical table. “Oh yes, this seems like a very cozy place for that.”

“I see you’ve inherited Ratchet’s eloquent sarcasm, among other things.”

First Aid felt a pit form in his core. Something heavy that told him he was in more trouble than the chains screamed at him. This wasn’t about him and Delphi, which would be the most logical conclusion for his current predicament. This was about Ratchet. Ratchet who, First Aid realized after leaving Delphi, was Pharma’s sore spot. He never understood why Pharma grew such a terrible hate for Ratchet, they used to be good friends, but that was then and this was now and-

_Oh Primus, does he think Ratchet’s still…_

“You know.” Pharma leaned in close to First Aid again. “I find it curious that _you_ were the one to show up down here. Is he too important to go into the field now? Too good to get his- I’m sorry _my_ \- hands dirty? He just handed over his title of _Chief Medical Officer_ to _you_ and decided ‘to hell with it, I’m retired now’?”

 _Damn it_. First Aid cringed. How was he going to spell this out without getting his spark pulled from his chest? Pharma was touchier than a pressure mine.

Pharma didn’t seem to notice the change in First Aid’s demeanor. “So where is he? I’d really like to have some words with him. Actually I’d like to have a lot of words; mostly about how stealing is bad. Stealing and giving the unworthy worthy titles.”

“Pharma.” First Aid tired to interrupt the doctor’s rant.

“But that aside I’d _love_ to show off all this neat stuff to him.” Pharma spun in a circle, his arms out. “This lab has _everything_ in it. I can do anything here. He’ll _hate_ me and I’ll _love_ it. I can cure diseases he’s never even heard of and fix wounds that are unfixable. I could harvest every last one of those sparks you found and grow a new _world_.”

“Pharma!”

“I mean, to pass up a chance to study a hot spot like the one that sprang up- well I’m a bit disappointed. If anything I’d-“

“ _He’s dead Pharma_!” First Aid screamed at the doctor as loud as he could. He pulled forward rattling the chains binding him to the table and ignored the way his vision went red for a second. From pain? No, that was definitely anger. “Ratchet. Is. Dead.”

Pharma paused mouth still mid-sentence open. He stared at First Aid a moment and then burst out laughing. He clutched his stomach and bent over. “I’m… sorry.” He heaved through his giggling. “That has got to be the funniest thing you’ve ever said.”

First Aid just stared back, optics wide. How was this the doctor that had taught him so much back on Delphi? How had Pharma gone from one of the best to this lunatic? _When_ might have been the better question.

Pharma finally stood back up, still chuckling until he looked back at First Aid and saw his face. “You’re serious?”

“What the hell do you think?” First Aid’s words had taken on a steely tone. Every syllable was sharp enough to cut through Pharma’s delusions. The medic vaguely realized he was shaking, causing the chains around his wrists to rattle against the cold table.

First Aid didn’t even see him move. Pharma was a few feet away and then he was nose to nose with him. “I don’t believe you, _Chief_.”

“Is that what this is about?” First Aid asked incredulously. “Is this about me being named Chief Medical Officer and not you? What good does the damn title even have anyway? The war is over. I’m the Chief Medical Officer of the _Lost Light_ , not the Autobots. Who the frag even _cares_ what it means outside of that? I don’t! Ratchet didn’t!”

“I do!” Pharma’s playful tone went dark and he seethed in anger. “I’m a better doctor than you. I always have been. Why, _why_ would _you_ be more worthy of his title? Of him?”

“I don’t know! Maybe because you’re stark raving mad?” First Aid tried to pull on his chains again, but Pharma reached out and pinned his hands down to the table with his own. First Aid suddenly felt very, _very_ small.

Pharma grabbed First Aid’s hands, forced them to curl into fists and began pushing. It wasn’t long before there was a crack followed by another and another and First Aid grit his jaw together to keep from shouting out.

Pharma didn’t stop. He kept pushing until all ten of First Aid’s fingers were broken. “Where are they?”

First Aid didn’t understand the question. “Who?” He asked in something of a squeak.

“My hands!” Pharma kicked the table and finally backed off a little. “They’re here! I can _feel_ them! You know what? Forget it. I’m going to find him. I’m going to find him and I’m going to vivisect him and do everything imaginable to him while he’s alive and conscious and this is going to be the best night of my life.”

“No! Pharma I’m not lying he’s-“ First Aid’s words were lost on the deranged doctor as he sprinted from the room, leaving the door open. “Damn it Pharma, get back here!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! See you next chapter.


	5. Define Crazy

“So… you’re not Ratchet.”

“I’d applaud your detective skills- which I just realized I haven’t clapped for anyone in like five millennia so that would have been a special honor- but my hand are a bit tied up at the moment.” Whirl tightened his grip on the large sword in his hands and took a swing at another one of the massive golden drone robots trying to kill him.

He and Cyclonus had been minding their own business, just breaking into a very obvious prison hanging over the smelting pool, and suddenly there was an army of number mumbling things trying to kill them and the entirety of the Circle of Light. Because they’d found the Circle of Light in the prison which Whirl certainly hadn’t seen coming and he was pretty sure Cyclonus didn’t either, but there wasn’t a whole lot of time to reflect on that. One minute they were rescuing Dai Atlus and the next the Circle’s leader was handing them both Great Swords and then energon was flying. Again. Their little field trip to the moon was turning into a real messy situation and that was only on Whirl’s side of things. Who knew what Rodimus and the others had gotten themselves into?

At least this time Whirl didn’t feel so guilty about stabbing drones. They didn’t do much other than smash and say the same numbers over and over again.  

Maybe the new comer scowling at him had something to do with them?  Whirl sort of recognized him, but at the same time sort of didn’t. His markings on his wings were obvious since they were the same ones Ratchet used to have and the ones that First Aid sported on his shoulders. So he was a medic, but he definitely didn’t look like a good guy- good bots didn’t have chainsaws for hands.

Whirl jumped back as a blue saw buzzed extremely close to his face. It was times like these that he wished he had a face because it was so much easier to show a ‘what in the actual hell’ face than try and explain it in words. “What the frag? You’ve established that I am not Ratchet so now you’re trying to kill me? Get in line.”

“Where is he?” The medic stalked forward his chainsaw outstretched.

“Er…” Whirl ducked as a gold drone went for his head. He turned and ran it through with his sword and gave the blade a good turn as he pulled it out. He watched the robot fall to the ground before turning back to the new comer. “Well, I’ve got some bad news for you.“

“And why,  _ why _ ,“ The other bot didn’t stop, apparently missing Whirl’s response. He pointed one hand and one chainsaw at Whirl’s hands clutching the sword. “Are those on  _ your _ arms!?”

Whirl blinked once, twice, looked at his hands, looked at the medic, back to his hands, blinked again and burst out laughing. “Ahahaha oh sweet Primus. Oh my god it’s true. What Pipes said- he…Ratchet actually  _ did _ that? Who would have thought the do-gooder ‘doc had it in him. You’re Pharma, that crazy case- and that is a hilariously ironic thing for me to say-  from Delphi.”

“Yes yes, everyone just  _ loves _ Ratchet.” Pharma sneered and lunged at Whirl driving him back towards an advancing golden guard. “So if he stole them from me why are they on  _ you _ . You faceless waste of space; you’re not even a medic! What kinds of uncultivated use have my-“

“Oh would you  _ shut up _ Pharma.”

Whirl kicked at Pharma and turned as a deep and extremely irritated voice boomed across the battle just in time to take out another number mumbler. It was going to get very difficult to keep track of everything going on if more and more new people kept showing up like that.

This time the new guy was at least formidable looking; red, orange, big, and enough of a presence to stop most of the fighting on the Circle’s side. The drones just kept screaming their numbers.

“Star Saber!” Dai Atlus bellowed as he took off faster than anyone Whirl thought could move for someone so large.  “Traitor!”

Star Saber didn’t look phased. He simply brought his own sword out in front of him and looked at Pharma. “Would you get out of the way?  Your presence distracts me.”

Pharma waved a hand in the air as he turned back to Whirl. “Not until I get what I came for.” He narrowed his optics and started marching forward again. He lowered his voice to speak in a deliberate low monotone rhythm. “Why don’t you come with me? I had this great game all set up for Ratchet, it had vivisection and everything- I really think you’ll enjoy it. Oh! And First Aid can watch- it’ll be a real  _ party _ .”

Whirl rolled his optic and dodged out from between Cyclonus and a Circle warrior going for another one of the drones. He launched at Pharma through the air and came down hard, sword edge meeting chainsaw blade. The blade jammed. “Your definition of party and mine are very different things. I might not be a medic, but I know what vivisection is and it requires one party to stand in one place for a long period of time and another to lie in their place for a long period of time. I don’t do still very well.” Pushing off Pharma, Whirl landed a couple feet away and froze. “Wait, First Aid?”

Pharma grinned, his eyes lighting up. “Ah, did I forget to mention? He was the first to arrive for the party. He’s eagerly awaiting your arrival.” Standing down the chainsaw disappeared and Pharma raised a hand to his chin. “Who else should I invite? Your other friends you came here with are currently out of my reach, but there’s plenty of other attendees on your ship- assuming they’re alive. Aside from Ratchet, of course I made Tyrest promise it keep him alive for me.”

Whirl narrowed his optic. “I didn’t know what was more exaggerated, Pipe’s description of Ratchet stealing your hands- although I guess it was technically Drift- or his description of how incredible insane you are. I think he was actually being modest on the latter.”

“Are your two friends you visited me with on board?” Pharma seemed to completely miss everything Whirl was saying. “Especially that swordsman of yours, I suppose I owe him just as much as I owe Ratchet.”

“Dead and exiled.” Whirl tightened his grip on the sword in his hands. This guy was really starting to piss him off and while killing the drones didn’t really urk him, insanity aside, running the old doctor though would leave probably the worst taste ever in Whirl’s mouth. “And Ratchet’s not coming either. He can’t.”

Pharma’s gaze snapped back to Whirl. “Oh please, First Aid tried that one already.”

_ Tried what? _ Whirl was actually speechless. What do you say to someone that was so… incredibly gone. Dead was dead and everyone knew that- especially doctors. Was Pharma actually that delusional that he’d think First Aid would lie about Ratchet being dead? Whirl had had some vendettas in his time, still did in fact, but he didn’t think a need to dish out revenge could get  _ that _ bad. 

“Anyway,” Pharma cracked his neck by stretching it to one side. “Let’s get this over with. The hours are ticking by and I intend to savor every last second.”

Maybe Whirl got too caught up in his complete disbelief in the conversation or maybe Pharma was a hell of a lot faster and stronger than he assumed but one moment he was still trying to figure out a polite way to tell Pharma to frag off and the next the jet was kneeing him in the core with enough ferocity to cause static in his sights. Not used to having five fingers to grip with, the sword dropped from Whirl’s hand and Pharma kicked it hard enough to give it a fair amount of air and distance. Reaching up the ex-wrecker tried to push Pharma back, but the doctor wrapped an arm around his neck, forcing Whirl to bend over and used his free hand to jam something into the back of his neck. 

_ Crap! _ Whirl back peddled as fast as he could, but whatever Pharma had just done made him stumble. Whirl feel hard as the figures around him began to blur. He heard Pharma giggling, the sounds of battle, and… someone calling his name? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got impatient and put up two chapters today. Oops.


	6. Denial

“Whirl!” 

“Shhh… loud.” Whirl winced as First Aid’s voice echoed around his head. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with his head, but a headache was too polite a description. Every little noise filtered through his receptors and amplified what felt like fifty times. He could hear his own gears turning inside of him and it was painful to listen to.  _ Didn’t realize being overwhelmed was actually a thing. _

First Aid didn’t seem to get the ‘quiet is appreciated’ memo. “Whirl! Look at me!”

Whirl opened his optic slowly, having to blink a couple times from the lights in the ceiling above him. Finally he focus on white and red looking down at him (why was he on the floor?). First Aid looked down, optics wide, from where he was... tied up? 

_ Crap! _  Whirl shot up from where he had been unceremoniously dumped at the foot of First Aid’s vertical slab.

“Finally.” First Aid sounded more sarcastically annoyed than relieved. “The last thing I expected was  _ him _ being able to to capture  _ you _ .”

“I got distracted.” Whirl mumbled as he put a hand to his head. The room was spinning worse than when he’d have one to many at Swerve’s. 

“By what?!”

“Finally meeting someone who’s more of a whack job than I am. Oh! That’s right,” Whirl turned and found Pharma resting against the wall behind him. The medic raised an eyebrow at him and slowly Whirl started clapping. “I told you I’d have to applaud all your amazing skills, that one included.”

Pharma sneered at him. He pushed himself off the wall and came to crouch down in front of Whirl. “Why don’t I give you something better to do with those wonderful new hands of yours. I can show you what they can actually do. What they’ve always done and I can show you why I’m going to rip them off of you once our little game is finished.”

“You keep mentioning a game, but I don’t  _ see  _ anything that looks like a game. Are we talking cards or something more like that weird game with the black and white dots that Drift always liked to play.” Whirl looked around the room as he talked. One exit that was wide open (dumb move), one First Aid tied up with what looked like easily breakable chains, and now that there weren’t giant golden drones trying to kill him, one very easily disposed of ex-Autobot medic. “Because if it’s the dot game, that definitely takes too much thinking to actually be fun.”

Pharma rapped his fingers against something metal. “Trying to look for a way out? Good luck.”

Whirl looked at him and pointed to the door. “Um, it’s open.”

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Looking down Whirl followed Pharma’s arm to his blue fingers that were tapping against his knee. “Oh.” He couldn’t feel the vibrations that should have been telling him that something was touching him. In fact. as he tried to move his ankles Whirl realized he couldn’t feel his legs at all.  _ Okay, so getting out of the open door won’t be so easy.  _

Whirl narrowed his optic at Pharma trying to either warn him of an ass kicking to come, or at least let him know that Whirl was getting more and more pissed off as the seconds ticked by. What was the point to all of this? Revenge? Revenge for what? Hands were involved, obviously; and Ratchet and now First Aid? That last part wasn’t so crazy since First Aid had been at Delphi with Pharma, but where did everything tie together? 

And why was Pharma on Luna 1 for that matter? Who else was here? Pharma definitely didn’t kidnap the Circle of Light; crazy or not the ex-Autobot just didn’t have the muscle to do that and it didn’t seem like those golden robots were Pharma’s either. They weren’t...insane enough. If Pharma was going to build an army it wouldn’t be spouting out random numbers and they’d probably know where all the vital parts were; they wouldn’t use the ‘go for the head’ tactics that seemed to be the trend back at the smelting pit.

_ Hm, wonder if Cyclonus is still alive.. _

Pharma grinned, not realizing that Whirl wasn’t really phased by his lack of leg use. “It’s not permanent or anything. I just cut a few wires. Have to keep you around so you can tell me how you ended up with these,” Pharma reached out and grabbed Whirl’s hands and clamped them tightly together in his own. “And where Ratchet is.”

From above them First Aid let out a frustrated groan. “Pharma…”

“I know what  _ you’re _ going to say.” Pharma snapped without looking at First Aid. “So I wasn’t asking  _ you _ .”

Whirl didn’t answer as crazy yellow eyes stared at him, expectant. Apparently First Aid already had the ‘Ratchet is dead’ conversation with Pharma. Assuming the deranged medic could even hold some semblance of an actual conversation. Whirl highly doubted it.  He pushed Pharma away from him with enough force to catch the doctor off balance; he toppled onto his back giving Whirl the space he needed. 

_ If I can’t walk out of here then I can- nope. Nope that won’t work either.  _ Whirl felt his gears twitch, but that’s about all they did. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him when his t-cog wasn’t working properly.  _ Frag! _

Pharma laughed as he picked himself up off the floor to stand; he kicked Whirl in the face with enough force to snap off his antenna. “Yeah, that’s a thing.”  Clapping twice Pharma grinned. “Now, let’s get down to business. We’re just waiting for the last of my guests to arrive.”

* * *

 

Pharma’s idea of a party was even less an actual party than his idea of a game which could have been considered a game, but not a very friendly or fun one at all. The last “guest” to arrive, both to First Aid and Whirl’s surprise, was Ambulon; accompanied by two of the golden drones and looking a little worse for the wear. Although, once he was there and tied down to another table somehow the universe made a little more sense to Whirl. Get the band back together. 

_ Or something. _

Whirl had been pulled back and left in a corner while Pharma was ‘prepping’ for his game, which by all the sharp and pointy tools had immediately told Whirl that this wasn’t game of dice, cards or black and white dots at all. The stakes were going to be much,  _ much _ higher.  _ He did mention vivisection before.  _

First Aid’s face said he somehow knew exactly what was going to happen and he was either somewhere between about to be sick to his stomach or about to get so angry he’d be off that table and choking Pharma; broken, mangled fingers and all. Being on the floor Whirl couldn’t see Ambulon’s face, but he’d seen enough fear in his life to be able to paint a pretty good picture. Ambulon was a good bot, but Whirl got the sense that he wasn’t one of the more sturdy on the Lost Light.  

No one spoke or said anything and the only noise in the room was the occasional high pitched  _ giggle _ from Pharma and the noise he made while moving things around. He put tools down on a small table next to the slab Ambulon was tied too and then he’d pick them back up and put them in a new spot only to go back a minute later and put them back in their original spot. After an excruciating thirty minutes Pharma finally stood still next to Ambulon’s table and clapped his hands together, startling the other three in the room. 

“Perfect!” Turning to look at Whirl Pharma grinned wide. “Now since Ratchet has, I guess, retired I’m assuming you must be the new resident in training. Why else would you have his- my - hands? They’re not made to be useful for anything else.”

Whirl dead panned as best he could. “One more time now- Ratchet is dead. Dead. As in not alive. As in offline. As in he doesn’t need hands. As in he is everything a doctor is supposed to work against.”

And just off to the side Whirl heard a small, sharp intake as First Aid sucked in a small puff of air and vented it out just as quickly. Whirl flinched; he didn’t mean it  _ that _ way. He knew just as well as anyone else that Ratchet couldn’t have been saved. It was too late when they found him and even despite that knowledge First Aid  _ still _ tried. Tried and tried and tried and tried until, from what he heard, Ambulon and Brainstorm had to peel him away and lock him in Preceptor's lab until they could put Ratchet’s body away.

From the table Ambulon let out an irritated sigh. “Is  _ that _ what this is all about? Seriously? You’re mad about Delphi?”

“I am mad,” Pharma leaned down over Ambulon until he was just inches from his face. “That he took what belonged to me. That he stole what was and also what should rightfully be, mine.” 

“Rightfully be yours?!” First Aid pulled on his chains. “You traded with- you  _ killed for _ \- the DJD!”

Whirl started and turned to look at First Aid. He’d only heard bits and pieces of what happened on Delphi. Mostly over exaggerated rumors (although Ratchet stealing hands turned out to be true, so maybe not so exaggerated?) and even then it wasn’t much more than a thing or two. But the involvement of the DJD? That hadn’t been mentioned. Probably for good reason. Not only does simply saying those three letters turn the energon in any sane Autobot’s tubes cold, but everyone knew Ratchet and Pharma were old friends. First Aid and Ambulon had been stationed with him for nearly a decade; it probably wasn’t something they  _ wanted _ to talk about. 

Ratchet play the part of detached pretty well, but everyone knew that underneath all the cynicism and grump he cared too much.  

They had also assumed Pharma was dead. However or wherever they ended up leaving him; they talked about him in the past tense and it wasn’t just because they weren’t going to be colleagues anymore. 

“I negotiated lives that probably couldn’t be saved for ones that could be!” Pharma whirled around to look at First Aid. “I kept  _ you _ safe. You and all our patients.” 

“Safe? Is that what you call that? Primus you are absolutely out of your mind.” Ambulon piped up forcing Pharma to look back at him. “You used to pride yourself on being  _ the best _ and honestly everyone would have agreed with you! Ratchet never said he was better than you.  _ Ever _ . But look at you! You’re even more mad than I thought.”

“Maybe he never  _ said  _ he was better, not in those exact words,” Pharma glared over at Whirl. “But I’ll prove to him here and now that being a good doctor isn’t about the gears in our servos.”

Whirl really wished he could roll two optics instead of simulating the act with just one. “You  _ can’t _ because he’s  _ dead _ .

“Shut up.” 

“Oh my god you seriously don’t believe us do you?!” Whirl almost laughed. Almost, but he didn’t because that would feel wrong somehow. Somehow it would be bad to think about Ratchet being dead and laughing. 

Laughing at Pharma’s utter denial on the other hand? Good excuse. 

Whirl laughed and Pharma was inches from his face in less than a second. “Shut. Up.”

“Dead.” Whirl repeated. “Dead, gone…” How many different ways could he say it until Pharma actually understood what he was saying. 

“Shut up.” Pharma backed up and shook his head. 

“Not living.”

“Shut up!”

“Sparkless…” He could go on for ages. As a Wrecker he probably knew how to say something was dead a million different ways. 

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut  _ up!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hi) (Happy New Year) (I tried?)

**Author's Note:**

> Once again big thanks to Sweetcrescent over on Tumblr for allowing me to write about her great art! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and any kind of productive feedback is always welcome! I'll see you next chapter.


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